Page 40 of Minha Dona

“Make it forty minutes. I’m not as fast as you.”

Caitlin grinned. “You were plenty fast just now.” She blew Helena a kiss from the doorway and was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

Helena simply lay back in the bed that smelled of both of them and grinned at the ceiling for a solid five of those minutes.

***

The restaurant was busy when Helena arrived, the buffet full of conference attendees in various states of alertness, although thankfully there was nobody who looked like they’d gone too big the night before. Maybe they’re saving themselves for tonight, she thought.

She filled a plate from the healthier end, grabbed a coffee, and then she saw Caitlin, sat on a communal table with several other partners. Helena hesitated, unsure as to whether she’d be intruding, but then Caitlin saw her and beckoned her over.

“Helena, come join us.” Caitlin was smiling, her professional smile, the partner being generous with a highly rated employee, welcoming her to the grown-ups table. But, beneath it, there was something else… a look in her eye that said don’t you dare go and sit anywhere else, I’m spending every possible second with you while I can.

“Caitlin, of course,” Helena replied, settling into the seat next to her.

“You slept well?”

“Very. The bed was very comfortable. You?”

“Same.” Caitlin paused. “Do forgive my bad manners, some introductions are in order.”

Helena soon found herself introduced to three other partners, all several layers above her, two of them people who, like Caitlin, were legends in the industry whose names were known among everyone in her office.

It was twenty minutes later that her and Caitlin finally had some time to talk, just them. She found it amusing how, as soon as there was nobody else in the conversation, Caitlin dropped the professional facade and became suddenly brighter and warmer.

“So what are your plans after the conference?” Helena asked, keeping her voice conversational. A restaurant full of colleagues was not the time to start acting affectionate. “Heading straight back to Houston tomorrow?”

“Actually, no.” Caitlin spread butter on her toast. “I’ve got some time off. I booked a week in Barbados, a villa on the west coast, right on the beach.” She smiled. “Just me, a stack of books, and nothing to do for seven days.”

“That sounds incredible.”

“I figured I deserved it after the year I’ve had. Partnership, Zoe, everything.” She took a bite of her toast. “My first proper vacation in… God, I can’t even remember. Maybe business school was the last time?”

“You definitely deserve it. Everyone needs to decompress.”

“Mmm.” Caitlin looked out of the window at the ocean. “It does feel a little indulgent though. A week entirely alone.” She shrugged. “I’ll probably spend the first two days lying on the beach and the last five getting restless and checking my emails.”

“That sounds very you.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Caitlin laughed. “I don’t think I know how to properly relax. It’s a skill I never quite got round to developing.”

Helena smiled and sipped her coffee. She said nothing about the idea that had started to form at the edges of her mind the moment that Caitlin had mentioned a week alone with nothing planned. It was too early, too bold, too much to ask after one night.

But the seed was there, and as they finished breakfast and headed towards the first session of the day, walking side by side through the hotel lobby, the idea kept growing.

Not Barbados, Helena thought. São Paulo. My city. My apartment. My life.

It was insane and it was presumptuous. It would be asking Caitlin to give up a solo vacation she’d planned and earned in favour of… what? A week in Helena’s city, in Helena’s world, meeting Helena’s people? They’d reconnected less than twelve hours ago. One night, after all those months of silence. You didn’t invite someone to stay with you on the basis of one night. Don’t get carried away, Helena told herself, maybe for her, last night was a one-night stand, maybe it was closure for her. Hope for the best, plan for the worst.

Except that it wasn’t one night, was it? It was one night plus a week in Houston plus months of both of them comparing everyone else to each other and finding everyone wanting. It was Caitlin wearing the necklace every single day. It was Caitlin using Helena as a reference point for what surrender should feel like. It was flying to a conference and asking for a private drink, not to mention telling Helena everything.

Not yet, Helena told herself as they entered the conference room and took seats in different rows. See how today goes, see how tonight goes, see if this is something more than closure for her. Then ask.

She opened her conference programme and tried to focus on the morning’s agenda. The first panel was on strategic growth in emerging markets, something directly relevant to her day-to-day work in São Paulo.

But her mind kept drifting to the woman five rows ahead of her, the woman who’d been in her bed not many hours ago, the woman who was about to spend seven days alone on a beach in Barbados when she could be spending them in São Paulo, in Helena’s apartment, in Helena’s arms.

Helena looked at the back of Caitlin’s head, at the dark hair, the straight shoulders, the force of nature who was also her Gatinha, and allowed herself, just for a moment, to imagine it.